more lovely and psychedelic as the months go by

So, I'm dipping into this battered old 1970's copy of Spiritual Midwifery that I borrowed from my childbirth class library. Here's a taste of what I'm learning:

Stretch marks are less likely to happen if you're not uptight.Oh, yeah? Is that right? Well, then, it appears as though I must have a telephone pole up my ass, because I look like I've been mauled by a tiger. I had no idea it was because I'm so rigid.

Now, here's a nugget of advice to husbands on the care and feeding of pregnant ladies, courtesy of "Stephen":

Be tantric with your lady - be subtle enough in touch with her that when she tries to steer you, you feel it and follow her like a good horse follows a rider. Try to do it with her exactly as she directs on the most subtle planes. If you do that, she'll trust you and get you high. It's a tasty yoga - you have to work at it, but you can do it. It's actually fancier than just dancing by yourself. You feel somebody else and let them direct; and if you let them direct, they'll tell you what to do.A tasty yoga, indeed!

The book is full of the birth stories of groovy 70's couples who all, all have the same hair. Long, thick, wavy, parted down the middle. The men all have long beards. A quality that all their experiences have in common is

psychedelicness.

This comes up all the time, I tell you. Let's catch a few quotes:

...It kept feeling more psychedelic as the baby grew, and that night I felt very calm and high...

...Having my baby was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. It was the best psychedelic experience yet......If you decide you want to keep yourself together and get high on the energy of your kid being born and have that agreement with your man and the midwives, it can easily be the most Holy day of your life...

...We had a good time the rest of the morning hours, smooching, joking, and napping. We felt loose, psychedelic, in love...Now, despite what my stretch marks would have you believe, I'm fairly groovy. On the spectrum from square/mainstreaminess to far out/grooviness, I fall pretty far to the latter. I fully embrace many hippiefied ideas. Iwas brought up in a relatively unusual family of Eastern philosophy-embracing, vegetarian Theosophists. I have eaten the mushroom, taken the acid, worn the round colorful sunglasses in the style of Meg Ryan as Pamela Courson in The Doors. And we're planning a groovy birth for Finn, with the birth pool and the candles and the breathing and the midwives. But this book makes me feel like...Patricia Heaton*. I mean, I'm enjoying the book, but wow. Wooo.

*the gross Republican who was the wife on Everybody Loves Raymond and now haunts those horrible Albertson's commercials

That said, I am engaging in what might appear from the outside to be some whack shit in trying to bond with Finn. One thing I've been doing to help make sure his head goes down in the right direction, away from breechiness, is staging Concerts Between My Legs. This, a of all, is not something I invented. I heard about it somewhere. It means that I hold the earphones of a Walkman in the general vicinity of my, you know, vicinity, in the hopes that he will float downwards interestedly to get his ears closer to the stage. Tonight some of our selections were "Here Comes the Sun", "Over the Rainbow" and "Follow the Yellow Brick Road". A previous concert consisted of Men at Work's "Down Under" on repeat about eight times. And...there is no b of all.

I chose this version of the yellow brick road to put here becauseI like the idea of luring Finn out of the womb not only by telling him which road to follow, but by insinuating that there will be an appealing menu once he reaches his destination - one that caters to children.

I leave you with the words of one of these Spiritual Midwifery husbands:

Stay real well-connected with her if she's emotional and don't get upset. Keep your body connection strong and make her feel good. She is going to get more lovely and psychedelic as the months go by and it is a blessing to be in her presence.

Oh, amen, groovy man. I know that as I lie there burping and bitching next to him, Dave feels as I do that it is a blessing to be in my presence.